Happy Holidays!

Hello everyone! It seems like there is so much to tell you about our holidays here that I'm afraid this will spin into a huge novel of a blog update, so I will just tell you about the big things and you can get the rest of the details from Roman's blog (www.romanbrady.blogspot.com).

Well, let's start with Christmas Eve. As usual, Roman and I had to go our separate ways for the holiday- Roman to Buenos Aires and Myself to Faith Moravian. We were able to share a taxi with one of our favorite Taxistas, Mr.Bryan. Mr. Bryan's wife, Meshell, is very involved at Faith and he is the guy we usually call first when we need to go somewhere.

We dropped Roman off first, all the way across town from my church, and we where leaving the barrio, Mr.Bryan got a call from another client also heading to Faith. He knew that I wouldn't mind the side trip, so we set off together for Limoncito, a sweet little barrio named for the river flowing beside it. Of course, I wasn't charged for the side trip, and it was kind of fun to just ride around town with Mr. Bryan, who has a very dry sense of humor. For example, I asked him once which barrio was his favorite one to drive in, and his response was "None of them- they all have holes!" That's an understatement, by the way.

Anyways, I went to Faith, where we didn't have a Lovefeast (Can you believe it?) but instead we had a regular church service with christmas carols. Then we passed out candles for the final song, Jesus Bids Us Shine. Now, the traditional candles here are just like the ones back home except they are white paraffin wax with red and green crepe paper, and not fluffed out like the ones we see in the States. That's the traditional candle, but they should've known when they put my dear friend Latoya in charge of them this year that traditional was NOT what they'd get.

Instead, she (with a small bit of help that I was almost afraid to offer) bought many different colored candles, ranging from pink to gold, and glued beautiful flowers and ribbons to their bases. Somewhere in Salem there were the collective moans of centuries of Moravians at the sight of these candles, but here in Limon they were regarded simply as they were: GORGEOUS. I was more than happy to take a few home for decoration.

The following morning I almost cooked breakfast, but Roman wouldn't wake up, so I scratched the idea. When he did finally join me, we opened the remaining gifts from my parents and were delighted to find coffee mugs from First Greensboro's 100th anniversary, as well as a few sweaters (one of which I am wearing RIGHT NOW!) and a new Indian movie! I was excited, but once Roman realized he would have to watch it with me, his christmas spirit was somewhat dampened.

After an hour or so, Sister Sally gathered us for Christmas lunch with her family, which was MASSIVE. She and Roman and myself were the only white folks, but they treated us just like we were blood kin and we thoroughly enjoyed Salsa dancing, Christmas Caroling, a banquet of tasty treats, and a visit from the self-proclaimed "Obama Claus," straight from Kenya. Santa handed out small tokens to the children, joking that he was wearing sandals instead of boots because he was the Caribbean Santa. He even had a few surprise gifts for Roman and myself. In fact, Roman received a jar of peanut butter and I received Guayaba Jelly. I tried to explain to Roman that I thought the gift was metaphorical- that we were like Peanut Butter and Jelly, a team! His response? Nope, it's just good for eating. 

After wrapping up the Christmas celebration we had a chance to participate in the opening celebration for Kwanzaa, which was very enlightening and inspiring. Kwanzaa is the celebration of African Heritage through special activities that encourage the African community to support and strengthen itself; it has a message of self-reliance that is awesome, in the original sense of the word. It starts on the 26th of December, and we were thrilled to partake in such a special occasion.

Once home, it was business as usual. I returned to the Call Center on Friday, and was surprised to see a few more Gringos at work than usual. One guy came up to me and introduced himself as Creighton, a professional surfer. Apparently, he and his amigos just work for a few months to collect money and then they go all over the country to surf. I told him that I was a missionary, which he appreciated, but didn't prevent him from using his most colorful language in our conversation.

Speaking of the call center, word of my primary purpose in Limon has gotten around, and I am beginning to get questions from my coworkers, many of whom are interested in the school and want to take lessons. I explained that the purpose of the school was to prepare people for serving in the ministries of a church, to which the group- mostly males- replied that if they felt they could be useful, they'd eagerly serve. I think that says a lot in that one sentence, especially in a country where very few men are involved in churches.

Meanwhile, while I was discussing the school with my coworkers, Carlos- my poquito gatito- managed to escape and got into a fight with three stray dogs. He lost, the poor thing, and was nearly fatally wounded in the attack. There was no hope of taking him to a vet for 24hrs following the attack, and to be honest it didn't seem likely that he'd last that long. 

However, yesterday morning found him awake and moving (albeit slowly) around the house, still bleeding from his wounds and unwilling to eat. We bundled him up in a cardboard box and headed to town, one of our taxi friends offering to drive us. When the vet saw him, he immediately checked for broken bones. When none were discovered, he took us into his office/operating room/examining room (located in the back of a pet store, no less- and we're not talking about Petsmart, folks) and looked Carlos over. When he lifted his tail we were horrified to find a gaping hole you-know-where that was already badly infected. He sedated Carlos, shaved him down, and thoroughly cleaned the wounds, obviously shocked at their severity. When all was said and done, however, the vet was certain that 6 days of antibiotics and a little analgesic cream would do the trick and cure the little guy.

We returned to the street to wait for our taxi to shuttle us home again, and I was surprised when a woman I didn't recognized came up to me and asked if the cat in the box was the famous Carlos. I said yes, and she said that she knew about the attack and wanted to know what the vet had said. She seemed relieved as much as we were, and introduced herself as my neighbor, Ferella. How touching to think that even my neighbors had formed an attachment to my sweet kitten, and wished him well.

Carlos slept for hours, and we were a little afraid, as his breathing was uneven. However, when I returned from work last night, he was up and moving around- trying so hard to be normal despite his injuries. He was even eating tuna and milk, following us around the house. He's a little shell-shocked, but I hope that this change in activity signals imminent recovery. He is my baby here, after all. 

So that brings us to today. We're anticipating a wild New Year- if it will be anything like Christmas, it will be like being in a bombing- so many fireworks! All week we have been hearing fireworks- the real ones- exploding everywhere. In fact, one exploded so close to the call center the other night that the floors shook and the person I was talking to asked "What the heck was THAT?" We've been told to expect so many fireworks that the sky will be as bright as daylight all night. That should be something to see; I'll tell you all about it.

Look forward to pictures on the next post- there are a lot to take off the camera and upload.

Merry late Christmas, Happy New Years, and pray for Carlos!

Morgan 

A Letter to America

Dear America,

I have been working at the call center here in Limon for several weeks, and I must say that I am appalled at the way you treat the innocent folks that make their livings calling you and asking you to answer a few simple questions.

I had heard, of course, that the Americans were rude, but I didn't believe it myself. Sure, I thought, they're tired of people calling them and trying to sell them things and stuff like that, but to do a survey that takes 10 minutes? They'll be glad to help once they realize that it doesn't involve signing any contracts or purchasing anything, right?

WRONG! Since working at the call center, during which I have called to ask about preferences in fast food and awareness of new movies being released, I have heard things that would make most people blush. At times people have been so rude that I have nearly cried. You see, here's the thing- you have no idea who you're talking to. Let me enlighten you.

Limon has one university. In making the decision to go to university, most of my coworkers have already distinguished themselves from hundreds of youth who wind up selling or taking drugs and getting into crime. From university they face an even more daunting challenge- there are no jobs available for the educated. Of these diligent students, many have children and are single parents, or they have ailing parents that they are responsible for. Leaving Limon is not a real option for them, so they are left with very few alternatives: teach or work in the call center.

You're probably all thinking about how noble it is to teach, that these folks should be pursuing that course. Well, they would except that the call center is one of the highest paying jobs available in the city. Want to know how much it pays? $3 an hour, a fortune by Limon standards.

Because the job is open to anyone with excellent English skills, many dream of working in the center and look to it as a cure-all for their financial problems. Because the company is American, some modicum of benefits are extended- discounts of Doctors visits and trips to the dentist for employees and their children. However, spend a day in training and you'll learn that what appears to be a good way to make decent money is actually grueling work. You are only paid for the time that you spend actually performing a survey, and your only opportunity for receiving a raise is based on how many surveys you complete. And it's no small number- 10,000 complete before you get your first 50 cent raise. When you factor in the various refusals- the worst of these being people who pretend to be willing respondents and then cuss us out at the midpoint and slam down the receiver, we're lucky to have 4 or 5 complete surveys a day. Not very promising.

To compensate for the number of refusals received on a daily basis, most of my coworkers work whatever hours they can get- sometimes working from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night for days in a row, just hoping to get a few extra complete surveys under their belts. They voluntarily work on Sundays, much to your chagrin, because you're usually home then, and they are just a fraction of a percent more likely to complete a survey even at the risk of those who harangue them for calling on the Lord's Day.

Why do they do this? The money is the obvious answer, but beyond that, it is what the promise of this money means for them. It is medications for their children, a singular christmas present to put under the tree (one toy costs as much as two days of pay), keeping the electricity on for one more month, having potable water for drinking, clothes on their backs, and something to eat. Living here you begin to realize that every day is a struggle for everyone. It is different from the states, where almost everyone has something. 

The bottom line is this: the decision you make when you decide that you're just too busy to answer a few questions, which you're probably not qualified to answer anyways (thereby wasting a total of 1 minute of your life on a call), has an effect greater than you can imagine. Saying no means that someone's child will go hungry for another night, that an illness will most likely go untreated, or at it's worst, that someone may not have the basic tenets that all humans are entitled too; in short, you strip someone of their human dignity.

So as Christmas comes in tomorrow, take a moment to think of something small that you can do to spread the love of Christ that so many express verbally, yet physically deny. Answer the phone and make the conscious decision to make someone's life a little better.

Your faithful teletester, 

(Insert generic American name here)

Cerro Mocho at Christmas

Our street as seen from my place of employment.

Our house. Isn't it CUTE?!?

The view of Limon from the hill across the street from my house.

Christmas excitement.

Ninfa and I are actually discussing plans for Roman's birthday party. The Bishop? Who knows...

Roman's Surprise Birthday Bash

Marjorie's homemade Dulce de Leche birthday cake. Yummmm.

The Bishop, Me, and Roman just minutes after walking through the door.

Our Limonense friends singing Happy Birthday in English and Spanish as Roman enters.

The SURPRISE!!

When I turned 25, it was momentous milestone in my life, not for the quarter century it marked, but for the things I had endured and had finally put behind me. At that point I had been living in Nashville for a year and half, and had suffered a cruel breakup and more job drama than I thought possible. It had been a year of deep depression and perilous financial situations, but on March 28^th, 2007, I was finally coming out on the brighter and better side of my ordeal.

That day had been typical at work, and I never thought twice when my friend Cristy emailed to see if I was up for a trip to the mall afterwork. Around the same time, my roommate Kendall emailed to say that netflix had mailed Borat, a movie I was dying to see. It only made sense to invite Cristy to nix our plans at the mall and come over to the house for our movie night. As we drove the 30 minutes towards my home, me in my Honda Element, and Cristy in her Mini Cooper, I was happy to daydream and enjoy my birthday with the comfort of good friends.

When I pulled up to the house, nothing seemed amiss. I just went right up to the door and opened it...and was met with the biggest chorus of “surprise” I'd ever heard. Kendall and Cristy had somehow managed to coordinate a huge surprise party that I never in a million years would've anticipated. Between Cristy, Kendall, and my friend Kate from Brentwood Benson, they had pulled together a massive group of former coworkers, current coworkers, church friends, neighbors and the like for one perfect party. Decorating the house were posters encouraging me that 25 was a milestone and a sign of great things to come. How true! I was so stunned I didn't know what I was doing. I don't remembered if I cried, but I remember telling Kendall that a plan so intensive would guarantee our friendship for life. It has been and will always be a pinnacle moment in my life.

It was with those same memories that I began to plan for Roman's birthday on December 14^th. Now, as Christians, Roman and I love each other very much. But as man and woman sharing a home, we've had our ups and downs. It was my hope that organizing a shindig for him here in Limon would be the perfect way to show him just how important he is to me. I wanted him to realize that even far from the friends and family that would normally be wishing him well, that he had new friends and family here in Limon that loved and cared for him just as much.

It began with me and Ninfa, after our Monday Night Fellowship group. She had thrown the idea of a surprise party out in passing, and so we began planning in secret, each of us calling or talking to other people we knew were important to him, and soon we had a huge group of Ticos committed to celebrating Roman's birthday in style. The only problem I anticipated came from the scheduled arrival of Bishop Sam Grey- how would I be able to pull him aside and let him know our plans? Yet, somehow things worked out, and the Bishop became a crucial part of the diversion we staged while the party took shape.

I had told Roman that I wanted to take him to dinner for his birthday at a local restaurant that overlooks the whole city. The plan was that they would meet me at the call center where I work and we'd proceed from there to dinner. The only problem with that was the fact that we can see our house from the restaurant, so we'd be able to see people coming and going as they prepared for the party. So instead the Bishop and Leo Pixley, one of our main contacts here, crafted an excellent scheme to stall while the party came together.

The idea was that Leo would not want to eat at the restaurant I had selected, and that Sam would suggest a restaurant that didn't really exist in order to get us far enough out of the way for the party to have sufficient time to prepare. So Sam drove us on an incredible drive to Moin, a port just north of town. Then, he “realized” while we were searching for the imaginary restaurant that he had forgotten his wallet at home. So homeward we went, stalling a little more as needed. When we arrive, the Bishop went upstairs and then immediately ran back down, telling Roman that our cat had caught something he wouldn't believe. Of course, Roman hit the deck running.

I don't know yet whether or not he was really surprised when the entire city of Limon jumped out to surprise him, but if he felt anything like I did that wonderful day nearly two years ago, then I know this memory will be one he treasures for many years to come.

I'm dreaming of a wet christmas...

Well, folks, it's raining here in Limon. This is normal for December here, so in alot of ways it is like being at home- cold and wet. Maybe not white, but I'm not going to argue that point.

As we get closer and closer to the end of the second trimester, I realize that we are cresting the hill of our stay here in Costa Rica and that from this point onward we will begin the rapid progression towards coming home and re-assimilating. I don't know how I feel about that- in alot of ways the real progress is just beginning here and I feel like we are finally establishing our program as a legit enterprise here in the city.

In addition, I have taken a job working at a call center around the corner from my house, wherein I work doing those surveys you all hate to receive at dinner time. I use a fake alias depending on each place I call, for instance I was Anna Brady while on the phone in Tulsa and Donna Forsyth while talking to San Diego. While I feel kind of funny working as outsourced labor, I am getting a chance to broaden my circle of friends here in the city and even find myself encountering genuine opportunities to witness in the old fashioned sense.

For example, I have a coworker we'll call Fred. Fred was interested in me as soon as he saw me because I am the rare working Gringa. Here, gringos come and go on the cruise ships and waste their money on fribbles- they don't stick around to work with the real people of the city. Yet, there I was. He is a very handsome Tico who lived in San Diego for many years before coming home. He's my age (almost all of the call center people are in their early twenties) and is a nice guy who has clearly lived a hard life up to this point. 

Fred immediately sought me out the very first day I came to the center, curious to know why I was in Limon. When I told him that I was a missionary in town, just trying to earn some extra money, he was surprised. "A Missionary, eh? So I guess you're really into God, then?" He asked, starting us off on a great conversation about the church and the many facets of Christianity that can be difficult for some people to maintain. Finally he confessed to me that he had once been a very devout churchgoer, but that he had fallen into some very bad crowds and was still "running with the devil," as he put it. We ended up with him asking if we could have dinner some night and talk about it in depth. I have no reason to doubt his sincerity, and he has been an excellent coworker thus far. I'm excited for him to come home some night and talk to Roman and myself.

Anyhow, beyond that, we are simply relishing the holiday spirit of the city. There are parties and special events to attend, and our children will be debuting the christmas songs they have been working so hard to learn. We hope to have plenty of pictures to share as we get closer and closer to the big holiday. Until then...

Pictures from Monday Night Fellowship

Rev. Perdita Cayasso's attempt at a scary face.

Guess who!!

Ninfa Cardenas and her charming daughter Keila, caught in a loving moment.

Ahh, Marjorie... She is a trip! And her best friend Cynthia is always peeking over her shoulder, doing something crazy!

Well, folks. This is it for the week. Everything is on a roll towards the end of the second semester, and we re just enjoying our friends and "family" here in the sweaty wonderland of Limon.

More to come soon; I promise!

Thanksgiving with Sally and Crosby in Portete, Costa Rica!

Sally's pie spread...I was spoiled with my choice of Apple, Pecan, or Pumpkin!


Crosby and Sally, my dear friends in Limon. Sally is a missionary from Kentucky that found love in Limon and decided to stay.



The rest of the holiday party (clockwise): Me, Crosby's sister Marcia, her husband George, and their friend Verona. Sadly, you can't see Florence, who is taking the picture.




The party crew.





Gobble gobble (courtesy of the Dollar Tree in Kentucky!)

Crosby starts on a second plate of holiday tastiness.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I hope you all got to spend lots of time with your families, enjoying delicious food. As you can see, I was well taken care of for the holiday this year. I even got to call home and talk to my whole family for hours! This was certainly one holiday I'll never forget.

It´s begining to look alot like Christmas...

My goodness, how time flies!

We are quickly approaching Thanksgiving, and here in Limon the city is already decking itself out in Christmas lights. Even the banks here already have their Christmas trees up in the windows. The weather is becoming a bit more like a Southern Winter, too. It rains almost daily and barely cracks 68 degrees or so. In fact, I´d be willing to bet that it hasn´t gotten over 64 degrees since Roman left for the States on Wednesday.

So, now it is cold and the Christmas lights are up, and people are becoming friendlier. Obviously, the people of Costa Rica don´t celebrate Thanksgiving like we do in the States, so they are at liberty to begin the Christmas festivities as early as they please. Stores began to carry Christmas decorations weeks before Halloween, and many houses have had lights up since the beginning of the month. Everyone I know tells me, in their inimitable Creole, that I will "know Christmas in Limon" and that it is the pinnacle of the year. I am very excited.

I am also relieved. I say this because the change in the seasons have brought the softness out of the people of Limon. Living here makes one aware of an existence that we in America have avoided (to our detriment) through our reliance on Credit Cards, and that is the grueling struggle of day-to-day living for people who have nothing to fall back on.

Life for many Limonense folks involves working long days for pennies, trying to stretch what little they have in order to provide for families that always seem to be growing, which I´ve discovered is directly related to the lack of Sexual Education in the schools, and basically just having to fight for whatever they can get. This is compounded by the astonishing growth of the US Dollar, despite our slip into recession. Every time the dollar goes up, the Colon goes down and the prices increase- we all understand basic economics. However, in Limon there is no way to increase what you bring in in order to meet the increased financial needs. This is a place in turmoil and clinging to whatever scraps it can glean.

No clearer example of this exists, in my mind, than when the cruise ships pull into port. If you want to see a city in action, come to Puerto Limon when the boats are in. Everyone clamours about the center of town, hoping to cash in on a piece of Euro-American ennui. They hawk animals crafted from palm branches, necklaces of dyed shells and seeds, paintings, and homemade food, all priced in Dollars- instantly doubling the prices such items would normally command. Children skip school and stand along the perimeter of the park, looking for sloths or birds that they can point out to the Gringos, who will give them a dollar or two in thanks...not realizing that a dollar or two can buy them lunch at a local soda, or maybe even pay part of the phone bill for their parents.

No, the people of Limon can´t just go to Walmart and save a few bucks on their groceries, or install a new faucet so that their water bills aren´t so high. They have to struggle. Watching TV the other night with a few friends lucky enough to have cable, we were watching CNN when an infomercial for a retractable awning came on. Immediately they all turned to me, asking if the product was real, or if the commercial was intended as a joke. To be honest, I wasn´t so sure. They shook their heads and I understood why so many people loathe Americans; how many other countries could provide so much for their people that they could waste it all on such frivolity? Here in Costa Rica there exists little imagination for such inventions- just getting what they NEED is hard enough.

So Christmas is fast approaching, and here in Limon that means bright lights and candies. But it means much more to this Gringo this year. It means that for one month, these people who have struggled and suffered throughout the year to attain those basics that we in America take for granted will dig deep into their hearts and take out the little bit of hope they can afford, and be joyful. Truly joyful. And then they will await the new year and pray that maybe this year will be a little bit better.

If that doesn´t make you feel a little more thankful for all that you have this Thursday, then nothing will.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, and keep praying for the people of this wonderful city.

1,2,3...What a community!

If you realized that the title of today's blog is taken directly from a Bollywood movie, then congratulations- you've gotten a gold star! Yes, today's blog is sponsored by Karan Johar- if you don't know who that is, open a new internet window and do a search for him. Pick any movie off of his list, rent it from the local Indian store, put on your reading glasses and enjoy the ride. Don't take my word for it; experience it for yourself!

Anyways... today's title is important for what it means for your two faithful missionaries. We've begun to build our little community here at the school, and it promises to be incredible. All the credit, really, ought to go to Roman for this development, although I have certainly benefited from it.

Basically, we now have an informal "Monday Night Fellowship" that meets in our home every week. Yesterday was our second meeting. We have a meal- Roman cooked last week, and two students cooked this week- and we fellowship together for a few hours before having an intense study session. This is a remarkable thing first of all because not all of our students know each other and are members of other churches. Then we also have many students who are operating on different levels of understanding. To top it all off, Roman and I don't teach together, so many students don't get to hear what I teach and vice versa.

Mondays are great because they break down all of these boundaries. We fellowship together regardless of age and denomination, combine students of several different ability levels, and Roman and I both teach and participate in the instruction. I'll be honest here and say that as much as our students need this oppotunity to learn informally, WE need to opportunity to work together and determine how to best support one another. Ultimately, at the end of the evening we feel fulfilled by the cooperative nature of the class, and more importantly our students are REALLY UNDERSTANDING! They can ask either of us for help, have things explained using different approaches, or just teach each other (which is actually one of the better ways to learn.) We have high hopes for this "program," and I think we have every reason to believe that this might be the key to longevity for the program here.

Speaking of the continuity of this program, I am excited to say that I have a student teacher! My advanced student, Tansy, is really a remarkable student and is fast surpassing the theory she needs to know in order to understand music thoroughly. Because I work one-on-one with her, we are able to make incredible strides in our lesson times. I've talked her at length about slowly transitioning her theory lessons into intensive piano lessons, and then beginning the next trimester with her acting as a student teacher in the beginning theory class. It is my hope that she will be able to serve as an anchor for this program- being the ultimate resource for whomever comes in the following year. This is obviously the answer to a big prayer for us, so I thank you all for the constant remembrance. Please continue to pray for the budding school and these first signs that EMA is not only coming to life but is starting to thrive.

This is just the beginning. I've been here 4 and a half months, and this is JUST the beginning!

The Little Church with the Big Heart

Woolwine United Methodist Church, Woolwine, VA


Wow. The world is truly full of surprises. Take, for instance, the discovery I made this morning that my expenses back home in the US were skyrocketing even as my income was remaining fixed. To say I had a panic attack was an understatement. While I won't go into the ins and outs of why my economic situation is suddenly changing, but suffice it to say that for a long ten minutes or so, I was reeling at the prospect of calling my mom and figuring out what exactly I was going to do.


I don't know why it's so hard for me to admit my difficulties to my parents; I guess you could call it foolish pride. I have worked very hard to be the best person I felt I could be, but when my world gets rocked I immediately reject the help I know they would be prepared to offer and try to handle it myself. Almost never a good idea. Luckily for me, I have Roman here to talk some sense into me, and he managed to calm me down and convince me to call home.

And boy am I glad I did! When I explained the situation to my mother, she was surprisingly calm and casually said "Well... you've got a little bit of money here... something from Woolwine..."


Woolwine.


Because I'm certain very few of you know anything about the location and relative size of this gem, let me tell you a little about Woolwine. For starters, Woolwine is a small town- town is actually an overstatement- deep in the heart of Patrick County, Virginia. It is 8 miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway, 36 miles from Christiansburg and Blacksburg, and about 25 miles from Martinsville. The population MIGHT be around 500 or so. And the downtown area consists of three main commercial buildings, a bank, an Elementary School, and a volunteer Fire/Rescue squad. It is everything that you equate with Appalachia- orchards, rolling hills, hidden streams...the works.


What is also important to know is that while my mother says Woolwine, she is actually referring to Woolwine United Methodist Church- the place where she was married and I was Baptised all those long years ago. I have such fond memories of this little country church. It is postcard-perfect, having even been featured in National Geographic years ago in a photobook of Appalachia. The congregation is small, but devoted; this is still a place where people remember your great grandmother, keep up with you even though you live in another state, and remember your mother when she was just a little girl.


What is perhaps most important to know about Woolwine UMC is that the money they sent- a large sum for a small, primarily elderly congregation- was the answer to a prayer I hadn't even had a chance to pray. This little church, filled with such love and heart, came to the rescue of one of their own- even though many of them haven't seen me in years. What counts is that they know where I'm coming from, and they know where I am...and they want to see me flourish. And I will... with their love and help, combined with the love and care of my own congregation. This is truly what the Christian family is all about.

The REAL blog for today

I’m sorry to be posting two blogs at once- I’m sure the departure from the norm is annoying to some of you, and I’m sorry. I DID write a nice little blog last week, which I’ve just posted, but Blogger was closed down for repairs, so I couldn’t post until now. I know- even on the internet things break down and have to be repaired!

But anyways, here I am once again. And this time I am writing on a Friday night; Roman has just showered and headed to bed- I can still smell his body wash mingling with the litterbox and the smoky smell of burning garbage just beyond our doors. Somehow this is comforting. Don’t ask.

I am also absorbed in a magnificent recording of Brahms 3rd Symphony. It is the London Symphony Orchestra directed by the talented Ms. Marin Alsop. It’s rare to find a female in the pro-leagues of conducting, which goes to show you that even in the liberal world of the arts women still have far to go towards equality. (And this is in no way an endorsement for Sarah Palin!) This recording, however, is fabulous. I can hear every nuance, crescendo, decrescendo, and even the dovetailed entrances that make Brahms the incredible composer he was.

If you have never heard Brahms 3rd, then you either need to go buy this recording, or find out when the closest local symphony is playing it and get the tickets ordered. If you play a stringed instrument, then you need to join an orchestra that plans to play it. Once you’ve made the necessary arrangements to get your ears around it, then get into a comfortable seat and crank up the volume.

The first movement of the symphony itself is a masterwork and deserves to be played alone. From the dramatic first few seconds, Brahms wraps his listeners up into a tempest of emotion. I defy any human with a heart to listen to this movement and not feel, for one second, that you’re taking a glimpse into the divine. The rich and sumptuous harmonies give every measure a depth that is awe-inspiring. Listen to the strings- the way the violins work together in the upper reaches of their ranges, the violas dig into the low ends of their instruments, the cellists play demanding runs all over the instruments, and the glorious low basses finish everything off. It’s magnificent.

And it only gets better. The second movement is gentle and nostalgic, with a simple theme and variation reminiscent of the great opera arias of Puccini and Verdi. It’s all so rich- he begins so simply that it is almost shocking, and then he adds layers upon layers to the fabric. I love these endless dimensions. Perhaps it is the depth of Brahms and Mahler that make me adore their music over the ever-popular Mozart and Beethoven. Don’t get me wrong- I like those guys too, but Brahms, Mahler, and Dvorak…they have “oomph!”

Which, in a roundabout way, brings me to my point for this week.

I have feelings for Limon. Despite the paranoia, the language I’m still wrestling to understand, and the garbage men who are on strike AGAIN, I am once again developing deep feelings for this place. I don’t know where they came from, or how they came to be so very deep, but there they are again, as if they never left. Roman and I do not see eye to eye on this; don’t get me wrong- he loves the people here, but I caught him thrice referring to the house in Limon as “home,” and he immediately recanted each time! I guess I just don’t get it- I understand the adage that home is where the heart is, but is there something wrong with making everywhere you go a home?

My love for Limon is a lot like Brahms 3rd, I think. It’s deep, it’s rich, it’s stark in contrast to what I’m used to, but the comparison perfectly captures my personal zeitgeist. It is, at times, melancholy like the end of the second movement- but it is also bold and thriving in the face of adversity like the thrilling counterpoint of the first movement. And like the way the last measures of each movement gracefully come to a peaceful and warm close, I have every reason to believe that this experience will be one that I look back on with happiness and nostalgia.

My companion, on the other hand, lives firmly in North Carolina. He is here in body, but his heart is split between the wonderful students we teach here and his life back home. Sometimes I admire the way he seems to be prepared for whatever is waiting for him when he returns, but sometimes I am exasperated (and he knows this, so I’m not dishing any secrets) by his drive to plan and look ahead. He is an excellent teacher and he is anxious to see what God has got in store for him back stateside, but I wonder if looking SO far ahead means that he will miss some of the blessings he is being given right here. At any rate he is who he is, and I am who I am. I like Brahms and he…well…I guess he’s more of a Bach kind of guy. He likes planning. And he’s not bad at math either.

Speaking of my companion and his proclivity towards planning, the man is doing a stellar job with his new theory class. My advanced students, while they’re pretty impressive, are nothing compared to the beginning theory classes he is teaching. They are active, engaged, and really getting the material. He has certainly been blessed with the gifts for this mission. You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m just here to keep him company while he does the real work at the school. He lives for lesson plans, and me? Well…if you know me, then you know the answer to that question!

Anyhow, Brahms 3rd is over now and I’ve enjoyed all of it- the clashing climaxes, the dissonance, the fire and passion, and even the tranquility of it all. You see, something I have learned about myself here is that I like the process of living. I love where I am, and who I’m with, and what I’m doing most of the time, whether that is in Limon or Greensboro, or even Nashville. I know that life has its intricacies, its problems, its tempests, and havens. Like the Brahms, It’s full of erratic rhythms, crashing cymbals, blaring horns, diminished triads, and even the occasional hemiola. From far away it’s a big ole mess, but on closer inspection it is a stupendous feat of organization and passion…and it’s mine to enjoy whenever and wherever I please. So here’s my adage: Home may be where the heart is, but it’s up to you and your heart to decide where you make your home!

On the road again...

Not really, although for some reason that title seemed very appropriate.



Well, the new trimester has begun in earnest, and oddly enough I find that Roman and I have flip-flopped in our class load for the term. Last trimester, I had to design the school schedule so that it could be run as a one-woman show, and when Roman arrived a month and a half later there wasn't much for him to do other than teach lessons. Now I am teaching a second-level theory class that only includes a few students who exhibited the drive to go further into analysis and learning about the function of various chords. I feel like I had a few more students that could've competently entered this class, but many of them feel a touch insecure about moving so quickly and have decided to take Roman's basic theory class as a refresher. This means that he has alot of students. Good for him- I have no problem dealing with a lighter classload.



That said, I also feel a little disappointed that I don't have more students continuing into the next level. I try not to take it personally- the test scores of my students proved that they learned alot, and yet I feel somewhat like a failure for not having produced a class of students that were fully prepared to continue into the more difficult aspects of theory. Because he is naturally competitive and driven, Roman has (surely not intended) issued something of a challenge to me... I get the feeling that he plans to produce better results than I did, and so I am greatly disheartened but hope that I can compete. It is hard to be brought so firmly back down to terra firma and realize that maybe you aren't the teacher you thought you were. Eeek.



As we prepared for this week, we were blessed with another opportunity to spend some time with a fellow American- the incredible Sister Sally. Sally and her husband live in the kind of place that most people dream about living in...it's a jungle, surrounded on all sides by great vistas of ocean and port. We had been invited to have lunch with her, and then the intention was to co-operatively teach her how to create powerpoint presentations. Lunch was a fabulous American treat- REAL HAMBURGERS, followed by the incredible experience of seeing a sloth face to face. The poor little guy was cornered in a ginger plant by Sally's well-meaning dogs, and we appreciated getting to see the koala-sized fellow smiling at us from a foot away.



After the close encounter, Roman and I ventureed into Sally's office to help her with powerpoint. Because I am a control freak, I had quickly dispatched Roman from the assignment and had fully taken over teaching Sally how to use the program. God had a good laugh at my expense however, as Sally's husband Crosby took Roman on a grand tour of their property, complete with freshly grown grapefruit sampling and the exquisite delicacy of cacao pods. You have to understand- when I was little, my father kept (and I believe he still has) an extensive collection of OLD National Geographic magazines. In one of these magazines, I remember an article about the Amazon Rainforest, and in particular a picture of small tribal children sucking the sweet skin from cacao pods. Ever since I have wanted to try this delicacy...and here Roman had blindly stumbled into it! I was SO JEALOUS! And believe me, he's gotten alot of mileage out of it, still rubbing it in from time to time (inadvertantly letting me know just how he felt about the powerpoint upset... I'm learning alot about cross-gender communication here!).



Anyways, to make a long story short, I am getting the opportunity to relax just a little this trimester, and I hope that this will give me the opportunity to figure out exactly what I am good at so that I can best contribute to our final trimester, due to start in February. At the very least it will give me the chance to start getting that dratted book you all keep talking about put together. Believe me, there is a chapter sitting right here on this very laptop! We'll see what comes from it.

At any rate, the trimester is off and running. We're doing all that we can to make sure that this trimester trumps the last!

It's the little things...

Lauren and Gen, our first guests
Carlos, also stubbornly referred to as George Michael
A view of Bastimentos from la Playa del Ladrones in Bocas Del Toro.



So we're back in Limon. And it's the day before classes resume here, although we're still not sure how many to expect for our first meeting.





Since our return, every day has been punctuated with some small delightful thing that we could not have anticipated. For starters, only an hour after my last post Roman and I were on the boat to Changuinola. We sat far apart- this was my decision and it proved to be a good thing, as it put Roman beside a fellow American, Lauren, for the entirety of the trip back to Changuinola.





Lauren and her friend Gen were traveling from Panama City up to Tortuguero canal, a tourist attraction just north of Limon. They were headed to Limon, essentially winging it...which, as you know, is not the safest idea. So I asked them if they wanted to join us, travelling with me because I had the prior experience to know which buses to take and what time we could expect to arrive. They agreed to follow along, and by the time we reached Limon Centro we were very comfortable with one another. So, being so close to dark, we invited them to stay with us for the night. This proved to be one of the best decisions we could've made- they were exceptional companions, and they also understood the stress that comes from being a mixed gender pair that have to rely on one another without the benefit of an emotional relationship. It was like finding our kindred spirits! We treated them to dinner- rather, they treated us- and then we came to Maribu to swim for a few hours.





The next morning, we woke up early and took Lauren and Gen to the bank as well as to the bus station, where we watched to make sure that they got safely on the bus to Moin. Then we went to breakfast before heading home. We hadn't been home for too long before our former neighbor, Fidel, came by to let us know that he was finally ready to bring the kitten that we'd been waiting for. And so we added Carlos into our little makeshift family.





Carlos is a very tiny 6 week old Tabby with a fiery personality. He is affectionate, but not overly so. Mostly he spends his time pouncing wildly across the floor and climbing up on the sofa to sleep behind my neck. He's adorable, and he has definitely brought out our softer sides. All of a sudden we're speaking in baby-talk and nuzzling this tiny little creature as though he were an infant. Incredible, isn't it?





Finally, the greatest blessing arrived last night in an envelope marked "First Class" and covered with stickers bearing "I Love You" and images of Christ all over it. I had been preparing dinner (my first attempt at fried chicken- which was actually successful!) when the phone rang. It was Cheery, the registrar for our school. She asked if I was going to be at home for awhile to come, because she had some registration forms for me...and then she added "and some mail." Mail? For me? I don't even have a physical address here!





When she arrived a few minutes later, I was elbow deep in flour. I sent Roman down to meet her, and when he returned he slipped the small envelope on the kitchen counter. It took me second to process what it might be. The postal stamp read McCloud, Oklahoma. Oklahoma? Who could it be?





Many of you remember that when I was first promoted at Brentwood Benson, more than a year ago, I was blessed with the territory of Mississippi and Oklahoma. Oh, how I loved my territory! I looked again at the envelope. It couldn't be. BUT IT WAS! A letter, handwritten, from a former customer in Oklahoma, mailed to me in Costa Rica, telling me that I was in her thoughts and that she loved me. Included in the letter was a pair of mailing stamps with her address, so that I could write her back. I was overwhelmed with emotion- caught between great joy and a touch of nostalgia for the life I had left behind.





It wasn't much- just a page, really- but that one page captured my heart. You know what they say...it's the little things that often mean so much.

Bocas Del Tour-O!!

Well, my friends, finally a moment of calm and peace here in Central America. Although, if you keep up with Roman's blog you already know most of what I will tell you. However, if you continue reading anyways, I can promise more colorful and exciting sidebars than you can shake a stick at... at least I'll try...

It is no secret to any regular reader that I have been struggling with my life here in Central America since our unfortunate attack a month ago in our old Barrio back in Limon. Once violated, the sense of security- even naivete- that we have over the place where we live is nearly impossible to reestablish. You spend alot of your time wondering who will attack you, and when it will occur. It's just the nature of things. How fortunate, then, that my Visa renewal would come up just at the exact moment when my paranoia would reach it's peak.

September 28th found Roman and myself on a small charter bus at 5 in the morning, traveling the incredible distance between Limon and San Jose with our sisters from Faith Moravian Church. This was the annual trip to Bible Antorcha- a quiz game designed by the Sunday School Board to encourage biblical scholarship through friendly competition within the Province. Roman and I had both been asked to judge the competition, so we made the decision to make our trip to San Jose the first part of an extended vacation to pick up and renew our Visas.

The night of the 27th had been quite rainy, and as we prepared to leave the house, or as most of you have heard from Roman,"The Hatch," it was still drizzling and generally looking dismal. I assumed this to be an omen of sorts- any who know me can attest to my affinity for Old Wive's Tales and superstitious beliefs...yes, I do read my horoscope everyday... anyhow, I wasn't feeling very confident about the trip. I should've known, however, that God would come through- less than an hour later we were cruising along the Jungle Highway under the brilliant arc of a double rainbow- the ultimate sign of His care and compassion for his children.

Antorcha proved to be exciting, and it definitely gave me some ideas about things to try when we return home. The idea of a biblical competition had me intrigued from the begining, but seeing it in action proved to me that it was a very useful tool for teaching and learning key points of the bible. I think the Baptists are on to something with this "Bible Bowl" idea.

After a delicious lunch together, we parted from our Limonense family and checked into our hotel- the very nice and reasonably priced Dunn Inn. If you're ever in San Jose, stay there. I can't recommend it enough! We spent the next few days in San Jose, where we finally got to feel like we were home with the cool autumn temperatures and crisp breezes blowing against us as we jetted from Embassy to Bank to bookstore, stocking up on English language materials that are so hard to find back in Limon. Finally, at the end of our trip we received word from CREN- the Costa Rica Exoticas Naturales travel agency- that our trip to Panama was solidly booked and ready to go... great news for travelweary gringos needing a break and new visas.

Our trip to Panama has been fantastic from start to finish. The bus ride from San Jose to Sixaola, on the Panamanian border, was long but peaceful. While on the bus we met three fellows from the states, one of which was also a missionary/musician who had been in San Jose for a year. Believe or not, they too had been robbed at gunpoint just a few days prior. This is becoming something we encounter more and more here... Americans are easy targets, and almost all that we meet have the same story to tell. There is comfort in knowing that we're not the only ones, but it's sad at the same time.

These three men would prove to be with us every step of our journey, although we never planned any part of our trip with them. After crossing the border into Panama, which I have written about previously from my first trip here, we were whisked away by a taxi to Almirante. Almirante is an hour from the border, and all of us (Roman, myself, the three men from the bus, and four German women...there are LOTS of Germans here!) were wondering just where the heck we were headed. When we finally arrived at the boat dock, we had to wait another hour to board what would turn out to be an incredibly tightly packed boat to Isla Colon. Fortunately for us, the boat ride from Almirante was only 30 minutes instead of the hour from Changuinola...which we're actually waiting to take right now!

We wasted no time after leaving the boat finding our hotel, which proved to be quite a nice place. One of the many perks of our travel package through CREN was that every detail was provided- the tours, the hotel, breakfast at a local restaurant...all of it was hassle-free and highly enjoyable. We spent our first evening watching the Dow rebound from Monday's market crash, and napping peacefully (or not so peacefully... my headcold making normal breathing nigh upon impossible).

The first tour we took was a boat tour of the many islands that make up Bocas Del Toro. We spent half an hour or more chasing dolphins as they porpoised across the crystalline blue sea in groups of four or more. It was amazing to see them playing so cheerfully. Trust me, I got some good pictures of that. Afterwards the boat parked out in the middle of the sea for some snorkeling. I LOVE snorkeling. I think it's just about the coolest thing to do in water. However, I don't love being parked in the middle of the Caribbean sea and jumping into water of unknown depth with animals that are far more dangerous than the small reef dwellers I usually observe. That said, I decided to sit out on this part of the expedition, instead choosing to read and have a nice conversation with our driver. When the rest of the tour returned (yes, including the three guys from the bus) they expressed their surprise at the lack of fish. I knew then that I had made the right decision for myself- I would've been supremely disappointed if I had gone through that trouble and hadn't even seen any fish!

From Cayo Corale, we ventured to Bastimentos Island for a few hours at Red Frog Beach. Beaches aren't really Roman's scene, so I gave him my camera to take whatever photos he pleased while I swam in the mild ocean. It was great fun. Believe me, we have lots of pictures to prove it!

After a few hours at Red Frog, the driver surprised us with a final stop at Playa de Ladrones... the Beach of the Thieves, on Hospital Island. This was a real treat. The beach was secluded, and the snorkeling was very nice. I saw lots of jellyfish and sylphs, as well as a variety of beautiful fish and corals. I was especially pleased with sighting a MASSIVE sea urchin. It was cool. When we returned, we flipped on CNN and got ready to go out for dinner. We dined on Peruvian food. It was good. Go get you some!

Yesterday, we spent the whole day on Bocas del Drago, a secluded beach on the far end of Isla Colon. When we first arrived, we were the first people in the area, and I must admit that we had no idea what to do to stay entertained. Before long, however, boats of snorkelers began to arrive and we were able to borrow masks and explore the bay. It was not the best snorkeling ever, but it was still very cool and gave us our only view of a sting ray on the entire trip. By the time our taxi arrived to bring us back to Bocas city, we had decided that Drago was our favorite stop on the whole trip.

Finally, to cap off our trip, we spent last night absorbed in the Vice Presidential debates. We are both in a unique position because neither of us are voting this time around, so we were able to enjoy the debate without any political commitment. I was impressed with Palin, especially since all we see of her in Costa Rica is the Tina Fey comedy routine making fun of her. She held her own quite well, although Biden was equally as impressive. What excellent candidates we have this time around, and what a shame that they have to inherit this gargantuan mess. We don't envy you guys right now. We just pray that when we return home, there will still be a home to return to!

Paranoia has set in, ladies and gentlemen.

I’m writing this blog in the moments following a normal night out on the town, but with a significantly different perspective this time around. When I first arrived here, all I wanted was a little bit of freedom- not going all out, mind you- just a little taste of the freedom I have come to enjoy as a grown woman on my own in Nashville, TN.

I always thought that I could handle the seedier side of this mission. After all, I had lived in Antioch, TN which is a den of gang activity and subject to constant gunfights and carjackings. In fact, I experienced my first drive-by shooting in my own quiet residential neighborhood and even saw a violent criminal shot in the head by a police officer while in the parking lot at the mall. I thought I could handle anything. Well, the reality is proving to be quite the opposite.
In the week that immediately followed the incident, I was shocked at the absolute calm I felt. Roman was visibly shaken by the attack and was openly coping with his feelings, but I- the one who had had the gun held to her chest- felt nothing more than the simple realization that these things happen and that life goes on. My first inkling that I might be somewhat traumatized by the event came while we were investigating the new housing prospects this weekend.

Our new home is in a nice neighborhood. If I haven’t mentioned this new neighborhood already, then I won’t here- just in case word gets out. Anyways, it’s a very nice and affluent neighborhood where children play on the streets in the evenings and the old folks come by and chat with one another through the gates. It feels very comfortable. BUT… around the corner is a Pulperia (general store) where we happened to see a few men buying beer- a hallmark of our previous neighborhood and also the home grounds of the gang that assaulted us. There were no recognizable gangbusters here, but I felt suddenly nervous and sick with fear. On the other corner is the Colegio Diurno (daytime high school), which I have never had any questions about as far as safety goes, but people hang out there all the time, so could I really say that it was safe?

Today was when it suddenly hit home. We decided to walk to our meeting at the Moravian church, which is only a few blocks away. Immediately after we walked out of the door, Roman remarked to me that we should’ve taken a cab, but I can’t justify the expense of taking a cab every time we leave the house- it’s much too expensive. So instead we walked, and everyone we saw looked suspicious. At times I even felt afraid that they were following us, even though we were carrying absolutely no valuables and had nothing they would have wanted. At one point, we were passing the Colegio when two groups of boys began yelling at one another. It was in Spanish, but the gist of what I got was one boy yelling “Hey. Get out of the way. Gringos.” And the other boy looking at us and laughing began yelling “Sacarle,” or “take it!” over and over again. Then a third kid said “No tengo mi pistola aqui,” which is basically “No. I don’t have my pistol with me.” When we finally reached the church, I can say that I was thoroughly terrified and ready to go home on the next flight back to North Carolina.

When I recounted the situation to our board, several replied that the boys had probably heard about the robbery and were teasing us, but I’d rather not find out. Another replied that in Costa Rica there is a saying that when a snake bites you, you’ll jump even when you see a lizard. I guess that’s right. I don’t feel safe around anyone that even remotely looks like a gang member. You know the type.

Later this evening, we went out to dinner (our stove doesn’t work- go figure) at that bastion of Gringo-dom: Pizza Hut. Afterwards I decided to go send my brother a birthday card at the local internet place- generally a very safe place- but this time things felt different.

First of all, we were suddenly aware of all of the men and boys who hide out in the park at night- something we would’ve blissfully ignored just a few weeks before. Secondly, every sense was heightened while we walked down the block. Suddenly I felt aware of every eye watching me, and I mentally recounted every article of clothing and detail of what I had in my pockets as though I had forgotten to remove some secret valuable that was now blaring forth through my clothing and out into the criminal underworld. Any money I had was immediately a liability, and even though I didn’t have enough in my pocket to pay for much more than cab fare halfway up the hill, I still felt certain that some ruffian would come up behind me with a gun in hand and demand that I give him all $2 I had and the cheap necklace and earrings I was wearing. Then I imagined his disappointment at my meager possessions and having him just shoot me for not having what he was looking for in the first place.

When we finally got up the nerve to leave the internet haven, it was terrifying. We knew it would take our trusty taxista 15 minutes to reach us, but I- still in naïve tourist mode- thought we could take a stroll around the dock while we waited. This was something we used to enjoy doing fairly frequently, just walking down to the docks and sitting in companionable silence while we thought about home, family, and our futures. Not anymore! This time I could see throngs of boys sitting at each bench, some lazing about with their attitudes out for all to see. Then, as if to warn us, a group of boys started yelling and throwing beer bottles down on the sidewalk just 20 feet or so ahead of us. We turned on our heels quickly and headed back to the internet café to wait for the remaining 12 minutes until we knew someone would be waiting for us.

At the end of our wait, we slipped quickly out of the building, but not without being spotted. From within the park I could hear a group of boys yelling “Mami! Gringa! Mamacita!” basically calling ME to stop and listen to what would either be lewd comments or physical threats levied against Roman and myself. So we ran quickly around the corner where we couldn’t be seen and waited the longest two minutes of our lives, with me nearly hyperventilating in fear. Although Roman tried to comfort me, I can’t say this enough- I was TERRIFIED.

I don’t know what to do now. Everyone assures me that this is what happens after you’ve been robbed at gunpoint, and that I will not be able to trust anyone for awhile. Well, I don’t have “awhile” to get adjusted. I only have two months before Roman leaves for the States again and leaves me completely alone through Thanksgiving and the first week of December. I don’t know what I will do, but I can promise you this- I’ll have to do it without leaving this house. I’m not going back out alone ever again.

Finally, a follow-up!

So, after a tense week, I can finally report that Roman and I are once again safe and sound, emailing from our digital outpost at Maribu Caribe. Many of you, I am aware, are reading Roman's blog as well as my own, and one of you in particular has raised numerous questions as to the frequency of my updates. And to that end I apologize that so many of you are having to read Roman's blog to find out just what, exactly, I am doing.

Well, here' s what we've been up to lately. When we left off, Roman and I had just been robbed at gunpoint outside of our new house in Corales 3. We lost my computer, all of my money, and Roman's passport and camera. And we also lost our sense of safety. Needless to say, the first thing we did after leaving the police station was to secure a room at Maribu Caribe and begin hashing out the details of what we would do next.

We struggled, initially, to reach common ground with regards to what we wanted for housing here in Limon. Obviously, having to travel between home and school carrying valuable materials had proven to be dangerous, so we reasoned that for safety, the school needed to come to us. After a few heated conversations, we were finally on the same page about where we needed to be and what concessions needed to be made for our safety. All that remained was waiting for our American counterpart to arrive and for meeting with the board to commence.

The meeting that occured last Wednesday was amazing in terms of how quickly people pulled together. We saw concerned faces from not only the school board, but from the local PEC (Provincial Elders Conference for you non-Moravians) and the board of World Missions. We began by addressing what was RIGHT with the school. I was especially eager to add that I had given a test the week before and had seen significant improvements from the initial pre-test that had been given before our arrival; something was obviously starting to take hold here in Limon. From that point, we began to clarify our roles and discuss the communication problems that had been plaguing us- starting with our rapid relocation from Pacuare to Corales 3 and going as far as setting up a chain of command for the board to follow.

After the meeting, we went to view two alternate houses. When we went to the meeting Roman and I had made the decision to request lodging at the school where we were working, but the Pastor in charge of the facility couldn't be at the meeting to approve the request. So, in the meantime, we were to view these alternatives to see if either might be adequate for hosting a school and keeping a home. We proceeded cautiously to a neighborhood known as Cerro Mocho, where there was an apartment above an outrageous mansion for us to view.

It didn't take a genius to see that we were in the perfect location the moment we climbed the stairs. The apartment was- and is- huge! With five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and ample space to move about, the space was a dream come true. We immediately began assigning the spaces. In the front half of the house we have two classrooms that house or instruments and materials, along with a bathroom, the kitchen, living room, and a nice balcony. There is a hallway separating the fore and aft of the house, and we live in the back portion, which is cordoned off by homemade curtains from the school portions. In this back half, we have our dryer (a room with clotheslines- we do all of our laundry by hand), my bedroom and bathroom, a bedroom for our missionary-to-be, a shared Men's bathroom, and Roman's room. Of course, since I have designated Roman as the "Man of the house," he has the largest room and biggest bed. Go figure, right?

We moved in on Saturday, following a brief trip to the American Embassy in San Jose to file for Roman's replacement passport, and set up our new home as best as possible. Between the two of us, we are having to share alot- from my camera to his laptop. This has not proven to be disastrous as of yet, and we hope that we will continue to be as content as we have been this past week while adjusting to our new home. If it is any indication of our return to normalcy, Roman prepared our first home-cooked meal last night... of Ramen noodles, alfredo sauce, canned peas, and tuna. And guess what- we ate it with a smile on our faces, on our balcony, on Indepence Day in Costa Rica, and we were happy.

Urgent Prayer

Hello dear friends. I need your prayers big time right now. This morning I was unfortunate enough to have my laptop and all of my money stolen from me as I was leaving my house. This was not a random act- it was deliberately planned after weeks of careful tracking on the part of the attackers.

Both Roman and I lost alot from the experience- I lost my memories. but Roman was the most unfortunate as he lost his passport- the only true key to the rights of our nationality while abroad. At this moment we are not sure how things will proceed, but we are ¨Walking in faith,¨and hopeful that our situation will work out in the best way possible for everyone involved.

Please be in deep prayer for us in this time as we continue to sort out the details and make crucial decisions at a very crucial time.

Our families have been notified of the event, and we are now waiting to see what our counterparts in the US and Costa Rica will advise for our next steps. We appreciate your concern, and would appreciate emails of support and prayers at this time.

Morgan morgan_a_smith@yahoo.com
and
Roman bradymusic@gmail.com

A New Home!

This will be brief. I promise.

Roman and I have decided to leave Pacuare Viejo and head out on our own. Today we met with a man with a house for rent in Corales 3, a nice neighborhood close to our favorite resort. An hour later we were scheduling times to sign contracts and imagining ourselves in our "first home."

Of course, I use the expression lightly. This is a rental property, with three large bedrooms and a nice living space/kitchen, but it´s safer than our previous locale and gives us the opportunity to truly experience life as citizens of Limon. We are being given the ability to paint and decorate as we see fit, and neither of us can deny the excitement we feel over this new development.

Last night we stayed up late watching HGTV, and in particular "House Hunters." The premise of this show is that a couple declares their budget and then they visit three houses that are in the ballpark. The excitement of this is that we, the viewers, try to guess which house the couple will choose. Then they show the selected home a few months later and you can see how the couple has transformed the space. I always thought that the level of excitement these people display was contrived and false, but alas, after realizing that we had a place of our own, Roman and I were much the same.

This decision is rather sudden, although I don´t think anyone on the Provincial Elders Conference here in Costa Rica was caught by surprise. In fact, I get the feeling that they expected the call to come sooner. In reality, they´re right. If left to my own devices, I wouldn´t change a single thing... but that´s acting out of a fear that I choose not to clarify in a public forum. We needed to move, but it took Roman´s confidence before I agreed to see the vision through. I am, however, extremely thankful. I am hoping that this new change will be all that I need to begin my recovery from the illness that has been plaguing me for the past month.

This new change, of course, brings many prayer requests. First and foremost: we need furniture. As I am writing this now, we have just gotten a call that one of our churches is donating a sofa and chairs, and another family is donating two single beds without mattresses. That still leaves a need for said mattresses, refrigerator, stove, microwave, and pans/plates. We really don´t have anything except a pair of fans for our bedrooms. Please be in prayer for these needs to be met- and quickly. We move in tomorrow.

The other major prayer request is for my relationship with Sara. As I mentioned before, I would not be moving if it weren´t for the counsel of others whom I not only trust, but know are right in their perceptions. I know that I need to move for many reasons, but I don´t relish the thought of hurting her feelings or taking a much needed source of income from her. There are, of course, many other factors at play that I do not wish to disclose, but suffice it to say that I am worried about what this will do to our relationship. Please pray for a peaceful "passing of understanding."

Otherwise, once Roman and I are established in our ¡NEW HOME! we will be sure to upload some great pictures... and maybe a video or two. ( I have LOTS of good videos to share...)

I love you all, and will have more news for you later. Stay safe in the face of Hurricane Gustav!

A note of explanation

Hello everyone. Obviously, it's been awhile since I last posted. There is good reason for this- I don't have regular internet access. Instead of hauling my laptop all over the city, I made the decision to wait until I knew I was going to be able to have some time with a wireless internet connection to post the blogs I'd been saving.

That said, you should know that three posts preceding this message are dated 7.27.08, 8.2.08, and 8.19.08. That should help you with figuring out the chronology of the events I wrote about weeks ago.

In the meantime, we are expecting to have internet in our home within a week or so, so I believe that the posts will return to their original regularity. Until then, however, please accept my apologies. I hope you enjoy the posts anyways. :)

As for the way things stand at the moment, Roman and I are enjoying an afternoon at Maribu Caribe, a local resort with free internet by the poolside. The two weeks since he arrived have been a blessing. It feels so nice to have someone from home right down the hall, and it helps that he is such a gentleman and is of such good character. It is a reassurance, to say the least.

We are working in two different churches, so on Sunday we don't see one another, but otherwise we are together most of the time. This means that I have more freedom to come and go as I please. I've already taken him to the beach last week, and who knows what we'll do next.

Personally, I need prayers for my health. I had my first (and hopefully my last) visit to the emergency room here at our local hospital on Sunday afternoon, where I was told that I can't digest most foods and needed to be on a primarily liquid diet. In addition, I had to receive three shots and a variety of pills to help towards my recovery. Right now I feel well- I miss eating meat, but I can eat soft foods like Jello and potatoes easily, so I think I'll be able to make the dietary transition without problem.

Thanks to everyone who has called or emailed about my blog. Remember, I have a local NC phone number that can be used to leave me voicemails or call. It connects to my computer and if I'm online I can answer it like a regular phone. That number is 336-685-3118. Feel free to leave me a message- I appreciate the feedback.

Until next time!

“Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love.
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.

We share our mutual woes;
Our mutual burdens bear.
And often for each other flows
A sympathizing tear.”

-- Jon Fawcett, 1782

Well, thanks be to God, Roman has arrived in Limon. And, perhaps by heavenly design, he managed to arrive during one of the most incredible weeks I’ve had here yet.

This week was hectic- I had enrolled in a course on Worship that was being offered in town, and it was also the week of Mother’s Day- which is one incredible holiday here in Costa Rica. It is always celebrated on August 15th, and it is one of their most important holidays. So between my trip to Panama last weekend, going to classes here in Limon, riding to San Jose to pick Roman up, and celebrating Mother’s Day, I was running on fumes!

Let me begin by recapping my experience in Panama. Last Thursday, the 7th of August, I spent the night with a woman from the provincial board and her family. Early on the morning of the 8th, we set out for Panama on the 5:30 bus from Limon to Sixaola- which is essentially a tiny outpost on the Panamanian border. The bus let us off at around 9am, and I was immediately impressed by the crossing between the countries. In Sixaola, the town lies along the sides of the main road, but the main road is highly elevated. There are stairs and bridges connecting the neighboring barrios and homes to this main road. We climbed one such set of stairs to walk from where the bus let us off- at the local Soda, or snack shop- up to the border crossing, where there is a singular sign much like our own signs back in the States, that reads “Panama.”

From there, we got in line at the customs office to have our passports stamped. As an American, I was required to pay an extra tax for crossing- it was $7 for a year’s pass across the border. After we were stamped, we walked across the border, which in this case was an old abandoned train trestle crossing a major river. Buses and Eighteen-Wheelers regularly cross this bridge in their progress towards Panama City and the Canal, but I can assure you that the experience was terrifying, as there were expansive gaps between the wooden slats covering the bridge, and it would’ve been very easy to fall through or lose your luggage through them.

After crossing over, we went through customs in Panama, where they stamped our passports again and we caught a very cramped Taxi to Changuinola, Bocas Del Toro. It was only a short ride from the border to Changuinola, but it seemed much longer with six of us crammed into a pickup truck with our luggage. After arriving we decided to take advantage of the extremely inexpensive shopping available and went through all of the old Banana Stores, where they still sold machetes right beside children’s toys. It was incredible to see the influence of Chiquita Banana everywhere we turned- I have been reading a great book recently called “Bananas” that talks about the history of banana companies in Panama and Costa Rica- this experience seemed to jump right off the pages.

After lunch at the Restarante Chiquita Banana, we took another short cab ride through Changuinola and several Banana plantations to Chiquita Banana Park, where we were warned of the severe legal consequences of catching Manatees and caught our boat, or Panga, to Bocas Island. Despite being sick to my stomach- it’s true that whenever you visit another country you can expect to be sick for a day or so- I still managed to enjoy the hour long ride through the Soropta Canal and across the incredibly clear waters of the Caribbean to the bay of Bocas. You could see straight to the bottom, where there were Sea Cucumbers, Starfish, and Sea Urchins resting happily. Not to mention some of the most beautiful fish I’ve ever seen!

After an evening of good food and good fellowship, we were prepared for the fun of the weekend. We booked a private cruise through the islands and spent much of Saturday lounging in our private speedboat, dolphin watching, snorkeling, and hiking through the rainforest. Although it was really cool to see dolphins somewhere other than Sea World, I’d have to say that snorkeling was by far the coolest experience of the day. While I had been enchanted by the fish at Puerto Viejo, I was unprepared for the excitement of snorkeling in a true coral reef. To be face to face with sea anemones and reef fish was like swimming in a giant fish tank. I will be doing that again soon. In fact, I may be dragging Roman to the beach tomorrow.

After returning to Limon, I had one day to rest before the Worship Workshop began. I slept hard, determined not to get up unless I had to. For those of you who know about my passion for Powerpoint presentations, don’t worry- I spent that afternoon composing my coolest slideshow yet, complete with theme music.

The Workshop, held at the Centro Teologico del Caribe, was incredible. For those of you who haven’t had the chance to talk to me person-to-person about my experience here yet, let me say that CTC is a fabulous school here in Limon, created to allow the community churches to come together and share in programs to enrich their community. Because CTC is already established and offer a similar program to our own, there has been a little smidgeon of tension between us. I am working to try to find common ground with them in hopes that we can finally work together collaboratively. They really are amazing, and this program offered this week was no exception.

Although I hadn’t planned on fully joining in with the courses, I found myself at the school day and night for classes in Worship Modification (how to help assess and motivate your congregation to accept change in worship styles), Worship for Worship Leaders (where we re-assessed our rolls as figures in the church and discussed what the true meaning of worship is), and a great Black Gospel choir to round out the day. Needless to say, two days after our concert, I am still hoarse! I have never felt so loved and encouraged in my life- people actually referred to me as a member of the Limonese community! In addition, there were a lot of people there who had been in the Limon Music Institute back in July, so many of them knew me already. It was like a family reunion…only in Spanish! Add to that the fact that Roman didn’t hesitate to join in once he arrived, and you can see how I’d be incredibly joyful after the experience.

Speaking of my Spanish, it is really coming along! I can converse with almost anyone, although my vocabulary is still quite small. This week I had the blessing of meeting the young girls that live in my neighborhood- Genevieve, Jennifer, Tiffany, and Carolina- and they come to the house most evenings to talk to me and Roman and ask questions. They don’t speak English, except for Genevieve, so I have really busted out my Spanish skills. Today I took Roman, who is also learning his first bit of Spanish, to the bank. It was thrilling to be able to be his translator! I’d never have thought I could do it before today- I even found myself speaking in Spanish without having to think it through first! The night before last, I even dreamt that I was back home and could only speak in Spanish- no English! At one point, while I was speaking to one of my many “Spanish Only” friends at the workshop, one of the clinicians from New York even told me that she thought I was from Limon!

At any rate, this week has been a blessing and I can’t say enough how much it means to have Roman here with me. With his arrival I gain a fair bit of freedom, as well as a friend and confidante. He is so very generous with his time and talent, and- when it comes to me, anyway- his patience. I’m glad it is he who has come to work with me, because he is just the right type of person to encourage me and at the same time keep me firmly rooted in reality. I think it will prove to be a good partnership.

This week is the first week of lessons, and so far no one has remembered that we were meeting, so perhaps next week will be full of encouraging tales from those one-on-one encounters. At any rate, we should have internet in the house by then. If so, it may be then that I post the last three or four blog entries, because Heaven knows it’s been awhile! Thanks for hanging with me despite the delays, and please post comments- I have been told that people read this here blog, but I myself can see no evidence! Let me know you’re out there! Leave me a comment or send an email so that I know you’re following me. J